


Stride

by callmeflo



Series: if Wishes were Irises [3]
Category: Those Who Went Missing
Genre: Gen, Origin Prompt, for one single day, leaving her boundary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmeflo/pseuds/callmeflo
Summary: Her hooves were sturdy and now her paws are invulnerable.





	Stride

The well-trodden dirt road is rough and solid beneath her soft paws, the grit becoming caught in her fur before the next step shakes it free. The village has some cobblestoned walkways where the ground is lower and nearer the stream and prone to mud, but those are a way behind where she currently stands. A tuft of grass, somehow having escaped feet and hooves and wheels flattening it, brushes against her wrist.

In the back of her mind is the skittish wildness of a horse. The memories are obscured by time and magic perhaps, like a dream that she can’t quite catch between her paws, but she knows they are real: she’d been a spotted pony not so long ago, pulling the weathered cart left out on the outskirts of Goldhaven that was once hers. She can recall flowers the easiest, or specifically a gentle voice telling her of them.

The voice was absent from her side these days, and the face attached to them just a vague impression that fades by the day. Without it, Flicker has nothing to soothe the shying equine within her, and no soft hands threading through her mane in reassurance.

She glances back over her shoulder and iris at the village, rooftops beginning to light up with dawn’s first light, the early rising humans just starting to emerge from their houses. The livestock wake in their pens and paddocks, the sounds all slowly rising into the daily cacophony of rural life.

She turns forward again to look out down the main road in and out of the village, silent and still except for the tranquil birdsong and fluttering wings. It beckons her.

But she stands still, waiting. Her fur feels light without a harness strapped securely around her body, no need to rest her weight forward to pull her cart. The bit is absent from her face and she has no one to direct her, no guide to follow on known routes to sure destinations. She is in limbo, standing in the middle of a dirt track that will soon be busy with still living, breathing, corporeal equines and their attentive owners and polished tack.

A rustle draws her attention to the haphazardly crafted stone wall to her left. From within the tall corn storks that coat the nearby land in tan and brown stripes pokes a little brown nose, and then the cat emerges fully. They are a familiar, Flicker’s spirit providing companionship by forming a partner, modelled from the abundance of seal pointed, half-feral cats that roam the village to keep the mice away from the food stores.

The cat familiar hops nimbly up onto the wall and takes a seat, dark fluffy tail curling round their paws primly. Sparkling azure eyes blink leisurely at the esk as if in reassurance - or perhaps to ask what’s taking her so long.

It does indeed reassure her, though; the cat is a second pair of eyes around the village, forever standing sentinel even whilst Flicker sleeps, and knowing they’re content to stay within the boundary of their village is one less worry. And it sparks an idea in her mind.

Flicker raises her head, this time looking above herself at the cloudless sky, lightened to a soft blue now with just hints of orange and pink remaining from sunrise. She waits and listens for a song on the air. Spindly branches from a nearby oak obscures one side of her vision, the leaves a blur of rich greens, and from it suddenly swoops a bird. It wheels around in loops, breezing by the esk close enough for her to see every feather in its trailing tail, and then flutters off to find another perch to sing from.

On the ground, Flicker feels her magic churning along with her thoughts. Her iris, six ruffled golden petals, shudders and opens further to reveal a newly formed little grey-brown speck hidden at its centre.  
The long tailed tit preens a wing for a moment before hopping forward, chirping sweetly in welcome. Their white tail feathers splay out behind them and tickle Flicker’s neck as she reaches her snout round to nuzzle at their tiny brown head.

“I suppose we’d best be off, then,” she murmurs to herself, “if you’re both so eager.”

The cat watches them go from their guard post, and the little songbird takes flight above. Flicker finally lifts her paws in determination and sets forth on her journey. Right from the start the little bird sings, the four note melody chiming around them and comforting the wary creature within her. Flicker stays carefully to the dirt road at first, the worn path and occasional hand painted sign enough to keep the area tied to the developed biome, not wanting to risk losing her guide.

It’s only a couple of hours before the sun peaks in the sky with its bright rays warming the dirt beneath her paws, and the esk relaxes completely as the familiarity of drifting from town to town calms her. She knows the road, long weeks of travelling with only pit stops at night, and was bred for it. Her hooves were sturdy and now her paws are invulnerable.

Wildflowers are abundant at the roadsides, especially within the cover of the plentiful forest, and she can name every single one. The bluebells in shades of violet and indigo, hanging from curved stems, used to stop bleeding; bright red poppies with the most delicate petals, a powerful pain reliever; pink foxglove cups, poisonous to eat but so pretty as a bouquet; dainty white daisies, handy for wounds or as tea. Each scent brings a wave of nostalgia. The thoughts come to her in a soft, loving voice; feminine; frail in the more recent memories. She can almost feel a delicate palm press to her shoulder, dirtied nails scratching satisfyingly amongst her patchy fur.

She often can’t resist darting into the verge to look closer at the plants, caressing their petals with admiration, and even sometimes uprooting a small sprout to tuck away in her fur and take home. Every time she does, she feels her bearded iris quiver and curl up, her power weakening with every step off the track, but each time she settles quicker until she barely notices. The bird hangs back and finds a perch to watch from, and winks out of existence if she takes too long - but always returns soon enough to chirrup in encouragement.

“Thank you for your company,” Flicker says gratefully as they turn back toward Goldhaven hours later. The tit trills a reply and disappears from view into the distant red sky of sunset, leaving only the echoing of their song behind to lead the esk. She’ll find her way home as she always has, and then she’ll set off again soon after - this time, without fear.

(Flicker’s familiars are waiting for her at the boundary wall when she arrives, and just inside below their perch is where she plants her seedlings. A month later they bloom blue and red and yellow and pink and they are reminders of memories that she’ll not allow to slip away from her. Her flower garden will grow to encompass the entire village one day, and though she’ll wander endlessly through the coming centuries, she’ll always know where home is.)

**Author's Note:**

> origin prompt 10: first time outside their boundary
> 
> Base Score: 24 AP (Writing: 1223 words)  
> +50 AP (Origin Prompt)  
> +2 AP (Small Familiar/Swarm: 1 AP * 2)  
> +5 AP (Personal Work Bonus)  
> +8 AP (Storyteller Bonus: 8 AP * 1)  
> Total AP per submission: 89
> 
> Base Score: 12 GP (Writing: 1223 words)  
> +10 GP (Origin Prompt)  
> +2 GP (Small Familiar/Swarm: 1 GP * 2)  
> +6 GP (Storyteller Bonus: 6 GP * 1)  
> Total GP per submission: 30


End file.
